Virtuoso
by fleurily
Summary: Thirty-five years ago, before the Fourteenth was a traitor- before Rhode knew the taste of murder- there was a piano in a parlor on a sunny spring morning.


"Come over here," he beckoned, smile warm and welcoming.

The morning light of early spring was filtering through the leaves of the garden, casting a comfortably cool glow across the parlor floor. Rhode had been watching him play from the doorway, as she always did. He had some odd sort of magic, with that piano; his fingers soothed the raucous notes into a floating melody that made her heart glow.

She blushed, when she realized he was aware of her presence. He didn't withdraw his hand, however, waiting with the patience she never quite understood. Finally, she stepped across the wood planks of the floor, reaching out to meet his fingers with her own. He grabbed her, pulling her close and scooping her up with ease. She gasped, surprised, but he simply set her on his lap- her back pressed against his chest, head tucked beneath his chin, legs hanging beneath the keyboard of the piano just like his.

"What..." Rhode started to ask, voice soft.

He took her hands, cupping them in his palms until she relaxed them enough to fit the soft curve.

"Just like this," he breathed against her ear, turning his hand over and positioning her fingers over the keys. "Listen carefully."

She closed her eyes, reaching into his mind. He let her in, each progression of his instruction flowing into her memory as easily as one of his sonatas. __

_A, G, C, chords and tempo; from your heart, or it isn't truly your own. What do you want? What do you feel? ___

_The music can take that from you- It can soothe even the worst rage, and you won't feel worse for it all when you're done_.__

_All of this, just for you_.

Rhode pressed one key, inhaling as the note rang through the parlor like breaking glass. He waited, that patient smile resting against her hair, hands on her waist; her nerves faltered, and he let her stumble over a note.

"Again."

Slowly, slowly, she exhaled, leaning forward and letting her fingers find their way across the ivory with uncertainty. A fresh note, followed by another; it formed in her heart before her hands carried out the motions, it seemed. Despite the simplicity of the tune, she grew more secure in the playing as she went, and let her right hand carry the melody as her left moved farther down the keyboard. One chord, that almost matched- Then a second that melted into the rest of the notes like an old friend. __

_What do you want?_

Rhode's breathing matched his own, and he reached around her to find his own place on the keys. They fell into time, her airy music meeting his rich, deep tones.

_I want... I want._

She faltered, fingers freezing on the keys.

"You're frightened?" He only made it a question out of courtesy; he could feel it, quivering in her little body, hear it in every breath since she had arrived in this large house only a few weeks ago.

Rhode shook her head, silent in thought and sound.

"Eventually..." He drew her back against him with a gentle hand against her stomach, moving his hands to the center of the keyboard when she relaxed. "It will become natural. It won't be second nature, so much as it will consume your entire being."

He began to play again, a soft and coaxing strain.

"And then you can play freely, without fear holding you back. It simply takes time. Even when you are secure, confident with your ability..."

She let him pick up one of her hands, place her fingers back on the keys and show her just how she was to play them. Rhode followed suit, and he played around the chord with expert precision.

"I'll be here, beside you, no matter what happens."

Still uncertain, she tried on her own once more; it was nice, but one thing was off. He listened for a moment, picking out the slight oddity with a soft tsking noise.

"Try an octave higher," he suggested, bringing a hand up to rest on her hair. "It will suit the mood far better."

Rhode did as she was told, making a pleased noise when the music lightened into a lovely little tune.

He could see the reflection of her smile in the polished wood of the piano; a soft, reassured expression, distorted by slight shifts in perspective.

Such apt imagery, he mused-

Oh, soon, too soon, he would witness the change of his delicate ingenue into the pretty monster she was destined to become.


End file.
